What She Doesn't Know Read Online Free PDF

to drive Uncle Parry out here to Belle Rose. Do whatever you have to do to get him here. He’s needed at home. Mama needs him.”
    â€œHas Mr. Royale—?”
    â€œLouis died a couple of hours ago.”
    â€œI’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do…”
    â€œJust get Uncle Parry home as soon as possible.” Max paused, sighed loudly, and said in a long quick rush, “Make sure that whoever he’s got with him tonight doesn’t come home with him.”
    â€œDon’t worry. I’ll see to it.”
    â€œThanks, Eartha.”
    â€œSure, Max. Anything for you.” As she listened to the dial tone she realized just how true that last statement had been. Anything for you . She had warned herself not to fall in love with Max, warned herself that there was no love in the man. He was a passionate lover, but an unemotional one. He gave her physical pleasure and took his own but kept his heart—if he had one—hidden and well protected.
    â€œWe’re closing up a little early tonight,” Eartha said, glancing at the two male customers, who quickly finished off their drinks and left.
    â€œYou’ll lose your loyal clientele doing stuff like this,” Parry told her.
    â€œMr. Clifton, my bartender, R. J., is going to drive you home tonight.” Eartha glanced at Candy. “Has he taken care of you?”
    The twenty-something bimbo blushed and nodded. “Yeah. I get my money before…” She cleared her throat. “In advance.”
    â€œFine.” Eartha came out from behind the bar, laid her hand on Parry’s shoulder and squeezed. “Max just called. Mr. Royale died a couple of hours ago. Max wants you home. Now.”
    â€œLouis died?” Parry stared at Eartha, his eyes bloodshot and glazed with tears. “Poor old bastard. I’m going to miss him.”
    â€œR. J., leave everything. I’ll finish here and lock up.” She delved into her pants pocket, retrieved her car keys and tossed them to R. J. “Drive Mr. Clifton to Belle Rose in my car. See him inside and take him straight to Max.”
    â€œI’ve got my own car,” Parry said.
    â€œYour car will be safe here overnight,” she told him. “You’ve been drinking and don’t need to drive. Max and Mrs. Royale and Mallory are going to need you in one piece. The last thing they could handle right now would be your having a wreck.”
    Parry heaved his thick broad shoulders, then sighed as he slumped over in defeat. He eyed R. J. “Boy, you know where Belle Rose is, don’t you?”
    â€œYes, sir,” R. J. replied. “I reckon everybody knows where Belle Rose is.”
    â€œI sure as hell hope Louis did right by my sister and her children in his will,” Parry mumbled. “Guess we’ll be seeing something of Miss Highand-Mighty Jolie Royale now. She’ll be coming home to claim Belle Rose.”
    As R. J. led Parry out of the restaurant, Eartha busied herself with clearing away the dirty glasses, washing them and wiping the bar clean. Jolie Royale. She barely remembered the girl. Plump. Blonde. High-strung. And totally spoiled. The princess of Desmond County. Only months after his first wife’s death, Mr. Royale had sent his daughter away. Folks had said how sad it was that the girl has survived the Belle Royale massacre only to lose her mind and have to be sent away to an asylum. Of course, later on, they’d learned that Jolie had never been in the nuthouse at all; she’d been sent to an expensive boarding school in Virginia.
    Eartha had asked Max once about his stepsister, but she’d never asked again—not after the deadly glare he’d given her and the sharp response, “I don’t discuss Jolie with anyone.”

    Parry Clifton snored like a freight train roaring down the tracks. The guy had talked nonstop for the first fifteen minutes, then he’d quieted and